


A Warrior's Beginning

by Nightfox_Riveria



Series: Click Here for Free Plotbunnies [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Cults, Culture Shock, Depressing, F/F, F/M, Gen, Kickass Aunt, M/M, Multi, Once upon a time there was a..., One woman against the world, Original work - Freeform, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Plot, Plot Devices, Plotbunnies, Really a buntcha plotbunnies, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, That is the answer, Weird Plot Shit, to be or not to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23899309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightfox_Riveria/pseuds/Nightfox_Riveria
Summary: The aunt, that will protect and teach her adorable little nephew, the Protagonist, everything a Protagonist needs to be to become an adorable little dumpling.
Series: Click Here for Free Plotbunnies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722616
Kudos: 2





	A Warrior's Beginning

To protect what is yours, you must take from another.

That is the motto she had grown and lived by. She had been taken from many many times, now it's her turn to take. Yet, could she? The taking of a life is no small thing, but nor is it to fuss about, because all things die given time.

All things die.

With cold eyes, she stared at the...religious fanatics, that stood before her. They growled and snarled, sharp teeth gleaming in the glowing light. Dark colors displayed proudly as they slaughtered each and every one of those she called family, dying the ground the color of blood, for their prophet. Begging their Gods to save their souls as they performed their dark rituals.

Although they were of the same race, each and every one of them was different in form and shape. Yet they were a united people...until the news of a prophet capable of divining prophecies, of his immortality, swept the land. That in order to save their souls, they must share the good news, and that any opposing religions must be eradicated.

She had been just a child when the news of the first 'cleansing' the Prophet performed.

Now his radical believers have come to 'cleanse' her home. Offering the blood and the young to their false prophet's new gods in hopes of gaining immortality. Immortality...what an idea, for all things must die.

Odd to kill hundreds of innocents and opposing believers for such an abstract thing. A life without death is not life at all, for as happiness cannot be without sadness, life cannot be without death. That is a belief of the Old Ways. There, immortality cannot be gained without death, for life cannot be without death. Then to become revived, cleansed and renewed.

To kill others so that you yourself won't die is foolish, it is evil. Evil.

Evil itself is abstract. To be evil is not to be dark, nor is it to be light. It is not anger nor joy, it just is. For it is not good, although it is heard to be addicting. For it entices and tempts the mind to perform things that are wrong, wrong in the mind, soul, spirit. Yet, how did it gain such popularity?

How?

She has a nephew, with large eyes that seem so bright and alive. He is so young, and small, so small. So small that she can hold him in one hand, so fragile. She can't lose him.

Not her little nephew that is so young and is hers.

She wanted to show the Universe to her little nephew with those beautiful purple eyes. Of the beauty of a star's birth and its death, as it leaves a nebula to nurture slowly forming stars, or it revival as an infinite black-hole. To fill those beautiful eyes with wonder and joy. Simple honest joy.

Joy that is not theirs to keep. Never theirs to keep.

Breathe.

Joy that was taken, with each painful scream. Those pleading screams that begged, begged for mercy. Mercy that was not given. She tightened her hold on her little nephew, closing his ears to their screams.

Everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay.

Her home, is bleak and defiant of their logic, but it's her home. It was safe, it was peaceful.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The sound of the door being pounded on chilled her. Then a loud cracking sound as it broke, the door broke to their efforts. Their increasingly closer steps scared her, if they found her...

Everything will be okay.

Everything will be okay because I will make it okay.

Gently placing her young nephew onto the ground, she lifted a long sword-like object out of its hiding spot. This blade had been in her family for generations, it had been a gift, given to her after she mastered its art. This was an old blade, one that has felled many before the Pact was established. The Pact that unified them, a promise that they would stand together against all odds as their enemies attacked.

Together the families drove off those that had attacked them. A common enemy had brought them together, then into an age of prosperity and peace. Until...

She snarled at the beast that entered the room, raising her blade as she sliced. Spraying the walls with thick streams of blood.

Taking a life is no small thing, but it nothing to worry over. For all must begin as it must end. Chaos cannot be without order, joy cannot be without sadness. Yet to try to make something it is not, is wrong. There are many shades of each thing.

There will be followers, and there will be leaders. As there is one belief, there are others. Conformity to only one thing is not right, all are different. Black does not make white, but both black and white make grey. Never will there be the same shade of grey.

Lifting her sword, she sliced and hacked away at the oncoming horde. Her enemies fell to her might. Battle-driven, she tore away at them, sword slicing through flesh and bone. One particular one, startled her as he dropped from above. His wings flaring with brilliant light, but without remorse she tore him apart. As she stood, peering down at the dying young cub, this follower, she spoke.

"I cannot say this is right, but neither can I say that this is wrong. For you were about to do the same to me, and I cannot allow that."

Lifting her blade, she plunged it into the man's slowing heart. A quick death is the best thing she can give, a slow-drawn out one for one so young is needlessly painful. The type of death that many of them had given, as they left them to bleed out on their shrines and temples. Offerings to their god.

A quick death is better than a slow one. Yet she could not help but wish that there was no death needed at all.

A death made in self-defense guarantees safety, for the dead cannot speak to the living. A death made in necessity is understandable. But a life taken because you wanted to, is wrong.

Do not grow addicted to the sweet silence of death, for you shall meet your fate, no need to rush it. Nor should the taking of a life grow to tempting. Although some relish in it, it is unnecessary, and unnecessary things are discarded.

Joy and sadness are necessary, bloodlust is not.

Yet it doesn't hurt to indulge every once in a while, does it?

Golden eyes gleamed ruthlessly as she met blow for blow. Her small frame shaking with the effort as her sword cut down those before her. Dying the once lush ground an ugly shade of purple. The color of the intruder's blood.

One came from behind, ducking under his strike, it pierced the one in front of her. Driving his pincers through the others chest. Twisting, she cut him down with her sword. Shrieking in pain, it toppled over.

Smirking, she spread chaos and death across the remains of what had once been her home. As she finished the last one, she noticed that she was crying. Droplets fell to the ground, wetting the earth with salty stinging tears.

What?

She feels no remorse for the lives that she had taken but...her gaze lifted to the ashen buildings. To the empty homes, that will never be filled with laughter, singing, crying, or any sound of life. Empty halls and empty rooms. Never to be filled with those that she had known.

Homes filled with people that could have lived. Lived, if only she had taken her sword and ended each and every one of their killers.

She started hiccupping and shaking as she thought.

If only she had been more sure. If only hadn't hesitated for when she glanced at it, even when they screamed. They screamed for help, for mercy. WHY DIDN'T SHE HELP!?!

She could have killed them. She should have ended them instead of wait like her brother had told her to. As he went out to negotiate with them, even as they cut them down. She hesitated.

Why?

WHY WASN'T SHE THERE WHEN THEY SEARCHED FOR SURVIVORS!?! WHEN THEY WERE CUT, DOWN, SHE HESITATED!!!!

WHY???

The sound of loud crying broke her reverie.

Picking herself up, she dragged tired limbs closer to where she had left her little nephew. The one her older brother had handed her, right before he was killed by them.

She was a hunter, and she hesitated. The first time she had killed, it was in self-defense. The second time, it was for protection. Third was in necessity. Ah, she had killed before, but if only...

Ah, she had broken her promise. That is why she had hesitated. When her older brother made her promise to not harm the guests, those that he knew would eventually back-stabbed him, she obeyed. When he gave her his son, with those knowing eyes, she loved. She knew that they would die if they let those strangers in, and she let them.

But she loved that little spark of life, one that she could never end. Even when it killed his mother, someone so close she called her sister. As his father stood grief-ridden, she couldn't end it, even when they told her he would die. That is was kinder to kill the small newborn than to let it suffer the few days it had to live.

For he had been born half-dead, half-alive.

She couldn't end him, instead she cared for the small thing, and surprisingly he lived. Against all odds, all common sense and rationality, against logic, the little thing lived. He lived.

Her nephew lived.

He was still just a small thing, but she cared for him. Even moving right next to her brother, leaving behind her old life for that small little cub. A life that was filled with blood and death, one that she cast off as though it were an old cloak.

Slowly, she adjusted to life as it was. To the civilian life filled with little death, aside from the occasional butchering of livestock. Then the arise of that new religion, one filled with familiar bloodshed, grew until it affected their small town. Foolishly, her brother seeked to negotiate with the enemy. That in return of food, that their small town remain a safe-haven. Her foolish older brother.

Before that happened though, he made her promise that she not kill those that came. That there would be no need of that. That peace would be established.

It seemed to have worked, at first. It seems she had been desperate to, desperate to leave behind that old life filled with fear and joy. One of destruction and creation. So that she could nurture the small life that she had nourished as he was nearly killed.

The disappearances should have warned her. Except, she paid no attention to such things, even when the corpses were found. She ignored the deaths, blinded by the idea that life was good, that it was perfect.

Now she lost everything because she hesitated. Everything but the very reason of her current joy and well-being. This spark of life that gave her purpose.

She couldn't care for this life. She shouldn't, for it was because of him that she lost them both a home and family. He should have had a father, a mother, instead of an aunt with a dark past. Yes, if she had been unbound, she could have eradicated this growing threat before it had grown to late.

This threat.

Yet, she cannot leave him. Not in the middle of nowhere, where the ever-present threat of being found grows. She could send him to one of those fanatic schools as an orphan to be brain-washed, but that would insult the memories of everything that was and is. It would keep him safe, but it would not guarantee his life or well-being.

They could always leave this planet.

Space-travel is now open to the public, but it's expensive. For there are no established alliances with neighboring planets, nor is there insurance. Once you're out of this planet's gravitational field, you are out of its jurisdiction.

She had taken some missions in space...but for some odd reason her form scares people. In fact, she had to learn to change her shape into something more akin to the natives of each planet so that she could perform her jobs. It was a useful skill to learn, but she had to learn it after being attacked by nearly all those out there.

To be Continued...

Now finish it.


End file.
